Snapshots
by daysandweeks
Summary: Drabbles and one-shots focusing on Lily & Teddy. All take place within the same universe, though not necessarily in a linear order.
1. Cold Summer

**A/N:** _Written for Fire The Canon's "50 Days of Inspiration Competition" over at HPFC._

**prompt:** _Day 6_ "The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco." – Mark Twain

**cold summer**

He had this habit of sleeping with a sheet on top of him, no matter the temperature. He'd learned it from Victoire, back when they'd dated. The sheet had to cover her ear, she always said, or she didn't feel safe.

It was summer, though, and the sheet made Teddy feel hotter and stickier than he already was. He both longed to kick it off and knew he must keep it covering him, a cloak against things that go bump in the night. Yes, even at twenty-five, a thin layer of cotton seemed to be enough to shelter him from non-reality.

It didn't matter how uncomfortable Teddy was beneath that sheet, though. He could sweat all he wanted; he could wrap himself in sweaters and blankets until his body temperature hit a boiling point. He still would be freezing cold inside.

Teddy hadn't slept in two and a half weeks. He blamed it on the heat when he bumped into friends who saw the purple bags beneath his eyes. "Who can sleep in this heat?" they'd all groan in agreement, suggesting that he purchase an air conditioner if they were one of his Muggle friends or saying things like, "Merlin, Ted, don't you know about cooling charms? You graduated Hogwarts, right?" if they were magical.

And he did know about cooling charms and cheap air conditioners that barely worked and made strange buzzing noises all night. He'd used cooling charms every summer of his past, and he'd once dated a Muggle girl who had an awful sort of contraption that he'd had to lug up to her seventh story flat and stuff into her window and even then it never seemed to keep them cool enough…

Teddy knew about that, but he suffered on. Because God knew he wasn't suffering enough on the inside.

Perhaps he had a theory. He sometimes thought, late at night, that since he was so cold on the inside, he might as well make up for it with his outward temperature. But then he thought that was rubbish, no. He just was a masochist. He wanted to suffer. He deserved it – Victoire deserved it, for him to suffer.

It was the hottest summer in London on record. But to Ted, lonely and alone in an apartment where the walls would sometimes sweat, it was the coldest summer ever.

Lily's summer was cold, too.

Oh, yes, it was hot at Potter House. In the backyard, even the shade of a tree gave Lily little comfort.

Despite the damned heat, Lily sat outside all day through June and July and August. She sometimes reached points of dehydration and nearly fainted upon standing up to run inside for supper. But sitting outside, reading a book or scrawling letters to Teddy (he wrote that he was hot in his tiny apartment as well), was much more preferable to dealing with her brothers.

It would be wrong to assume that Lily didn't like James or Albus or that Albus or James disliked Lily. In fact, the siblings got along quite famously for a house that was once so divided. There was James, the pride of Gryffindor, who constantly wore a sneer and was famous for what he could do on a broomstick. Then there was Albus, the first Potter to ever be sorted into Slytherin, with his famous green eyes and his charming laugh. And finally there was Lily, another Slytherin, the smartest witch in her year. All three had black hair, though Lily's was perhaps just a dark shade of red. All were attractive and smart and popular at school.

They'd hated each other once, for about five seconds. It had all started when Albus had been sorted into Slytherin. James had given him hell and written to Lily, who had yet to enter Hogwarts, in disgust, though she hadn't minded much about what house anyone was in. And then Lily had been sorted into that house as well, and James figured he might as well get over it since Al was just about the best friend he had ever had and Lily wasn't that awful, either. Since then, the three had gotten along quite well as far as siblings go.

So it wasn't a dislike of her brothers that forced Lily outside into the heat and humidity. No, it was something else entirely.

She was fourteen, James barely seventeen, Albus fifteen. And for some reason Lily couldn't quite figure out, there apparently was a vast difference between fourteen-year-olds and their barely older siblings. While Lily would have loved to lounge about in her cool room, she couldn't, because her room shared a wall on the right with Albus's and a ceiling with James's floor. So if Lily were to recline on her bed on any given summer day, she would either have to deal with the sounds of Albus passionately snogging his on-and-off girlfriends (Summer or Marissa – it varied with the week) or the shaking of James's cast-iron headboard against the wall, vibrating down to her room. His girlfriend was at least steady.

And so while Albus was kept warm by thoughts of Summer or Marissa or whoever, and while James's bed was kept warm quite literally, Lily was left cold and alone under her great big tree, beads of sweat leaking onto her letters to Teddy.

It was a hot summer, but it was the first cold summer Lily ever knew.


	2. Cupid's Arrow

**A/N:** _Written for Fire The Canon's "50 Days of Inspiration Competition" over at HPFC._

**prompt:** _Day 7_ accuracy

**cupid's arrow**

Victoire had her looks, Dominique her curiosity. Molly had her sweet, unassuming charisma. Louis had his skill with his hands. Lucy was renowned for her fairness, Roxanne for her ability to make any night into a party. Fred was the prankster, James the Quidditch star. Albus was the charming one, Rose the brightest of the bunch, Hugo the one who knew his way around the greenhouse.

The cousins all had a skill, a talent, a trait – something that set them apart from the rest. For Lily, it was her accuracy – her skill with a bow and arrow.

She'd taken up the hobby – she insisted that that's all it was – at a young age when she was bored with flying. It wasn't that she wasn't good at Quidditch – she even played in her fourth and fifth year for a brief bit. It was that it just wasn't _her_ thing. The Quidditch Pitch was where James belonged, and Fred and Roxanne and Louis and Dom before him.

And Lily, being the smart girl that she was, realized this at the tender age of nine and asked for archery lessons.

Her parents were more than happy to set her up with an instructor. At Hogwarts, Headmistress McGonagall even created a space for Lily to continue her sport – _hobby_, she insisted. A small archery range was set up not too far from the lake, and there Lily practiced and even gave lessons from time to time, generally with supervision from Hagrid or Professor Longbottom or McGonagall herself.

Often Lily spent time practicing her hobby by herself. It was a warm April day in her sixth year when her hair came loose from its tie, and for a moment she was blinded by wisps of red-black-red. She paused, waited for the wind to cease, eyed her target, and released.

She did not know it, but from across the lake a figure watched her. Tall, broad – though not particularly assuming. He stood with a small frown as he watched the wild-haired girl with her bow and arrow.

It had been just shy of two years since Teddy had seen Lily. She'd grown since then. She was taller, thinner, built like a woman. She dropped her bow now for a moment before bending over and scooping her hair back into an expert, long ponytail. She then picked up the bow and headed to the target to retrieve her arrows.

He was at the target by then, and not by his own accord. Teddy was unsure how he'd wandered there, as entranced as he was by Lily's beauty. He was stricken more and more by her the closer he came to the archery range. _She's grown up now_, he thought one second, and _She's a child_, he thought the next.

"Teddy!" she gasped as she looked up from retrieving her last arrow. And though she put them all away, when she embraced him Teddy felt very much like he'd been struck by the weapon she'd just wielded moments before.

_There is no way_, he thought, _that I could be her professor next year._

_There is no way_, he thought, _that I could lose her again._


	3. The Underground

**A/N:** _Written for Fire The Canon's "50 Days of Inspiration Competition" over at HPFC. My apologies to anyone reading for Lily/Teddy – this chapter is just about Teddy and a previous relationship of his, though it does give some background to a previous chapter._

**prompt:** _Day 28_ character must talk to a Muggle

**the underground**

Teddy Lupin had never been an Auror. He'd started his training after graduating Hogwarts, but had quit after a week. That particular profession just wasn't for him.

And yet he still found himself drawn to the Dark Arts – to understanding them, to defending innocent people against the magic of dark wizards. As a result, he found himself underground quite a lot: in magical caves in Scotland, beneath pyramids in Egypt, twice in a dark tunnel in Brazil. Often enough, when Ted was underground, he was just taking the tube.

It was on the tube that he met Astrid, a bright, starry-eyed thing with long brown hair and a subtle, smoky laugh. She had a penchant for wearing baggy, almost bohemian clothes and smoking things she shouldn't smoke. Teddy often bumped into her on his travels throughout London.

He wasn't sure why he liked to move about in the Muggle way, but he did. Perhaps he didn't really prefer this particular method of transportation. Maybe the simple underground-ness of the tube reminded him of finding and disarming dark artifacts in a crypt in Germany or Romania or wherever he had been last month.

Teddy knew why he liked Astrid, though. She wasn't fair like Victoire, the last and only girl he'd ever been serious with. Sure, Teddy had had his way with quite a few girls, but since leaving Victoire he'd found a type. A type that most decidedly wasn't blonde and French. Astrid met his needs exactly.

He didn't decide that he might be just a bit serious with her until a night in early June when they were lounging about in bed together, entirely post-coital. She lit a joint, inhaled again, and passed it his way. Teddy refused. He'd smoked before, and he liked how it made him feel so much that he didn't like how it made him feel at all.

"It's damned hot in here," Astrid said before inhaling again. "I need to get an air conditioner. Will you help me with that?"

It was then that Teddy knew he had to be serious about Astrid. He wouldn't love her, no, but he'd date her for some months and sleep in her apartment frequently enough. The only reason he wanted her so bad was because she just didn't _know_.

Ted had spoken to Muggles before – bikini-clad tourist girls on a beach in Florida who'd seen something they weren't meant to, drug lords with dark connections in Columbia, an Irishman whose drunken Squib best friend had made one reference too many. But none of those people had offered him a joint or asked him to lug a rather heavy contraption up six flights of steps. They'd known something was different about Teddy. They'd known that he wasn't one of them. They'd known that he was magical.

Astrid had no idea.

"Of course I'll help you," Teddy said, a part of him thinking that it would all be great fun, another part thinking, _Isn't this easier? Isn't it easier this way?_

And so they went to the store and she purchased an air conditioner, even though Teddy knew cooling charms. And he carried the thing up six flights of stairs, stopping halfway up to take a breather, and then to do the same when only one flight was left. He did all that even though he knew simple levitating charms.

It wasn't easier in that particular way, but in bed that night, things were so much simpler. "You're the best boyfriend ever," Astrid declared, snuggling up against Teddy. They weren't sweaty now, with the air conditioner on full blast. They could cuddle, at least until they became used to it and realized that, despite the cool air, the flat was still extremely hot.

Teddy couldn't say that Astrid was the best girlfriend ever, because that wasn't true. She drank too much and he didn't really like her taste in clothes and once he'd caught her kissing another man, though he'd never told her. But she'd do for now. "You're not so bad yourself," he responded with a kiss to her forehead, and after that things took their course. Teddy imagined Astrid thought they were making love. And it was good, because afterwards they shivered, the artificial cold air turning their sweat into what they imagined to be flecks of ice on their skin.

Eventually, they parted ways – underground, fittingly enough. Teddy had been called for a mission in America (which, also fittingly, involved a trip on a subway) and Astrid had decided to go back to university.

"I'll see you next summer, maybe?" Astrid asked, not quite hopeful, after Teddy kissed her goodbye.

Her train was waiting. They didn't have much time to talk. "Maybe," Teddy said with a shrug. "Probably not."

She didn't seem to care too much, but she shrugged sadly in response. "You know, I thought I might love you, back when you carried that air conditioner up to my apartment. But I don't think you liked being up so high, on that seventh story, did you?" Astrid didn't give Teddy time to respond. Instead, she cracked a smile and said, "The Underground is where you belong."

And with that, she was on her train and gone.


	4. Injured

**A/N:** _Written for Fire The Canon's "50 Days of Inspiration Competition" over at HPFC._

_Wrote this one in the present tense, as opposed to the last few chapters. Hope you enjoy it!_

**prompt:** _Day 30_ injured

**too much, not enough**

_3 November_

Lily is drunk.

Teddy can tell that simply by the glassy look in her eyes. He doesn't need to smell the alcohol permeating off of her. He doesn't need to see the stain of spilled vodka on her shirt. It's just so obvious by the look-of her goofy smile and too-bright eyes.

"Lily, it's after hours. Get back to your dormitory."

Lily giggles, and Teddy's heart melts at the sound. She's been so dour lately, staring at her feet and barely raising her hand in class. "You think I'm a perfect prefect girl, don't you?" she asks, sauntering up to him in her too-short skirt and her too-unbuttoned blouse. She's entirely that – entirely too much.

Teddy can't help but roll his eyes at her words, though. She's close enough that if he tried hard enough, he could kiss her. She squints up at him, nearly begging him to. _Oh, Merlin. Oh, Christ._

He smirks. "I knew you were trouble from day one, Potter. Never thought you were a perfect prefect." He pops his "p"s when he speaks. "An _imperfect_ one, maybe."

She likes that, his sarcasm. She smiles, bites her bottom lip. He can't help it – he lets out a groan of frustration.

She's been teasing him like this all school year, trotting into his classroom with her skirt magicked to be an inch shorter than the rules allow. Of course, most of the girls do this, but she has to know what effect she has on him. There was one time she wore these long socks that ended just below her skirt and…

Oh, Merlin. Oh, Christ.

"I've got to tell you this, Professor," Lily says, biting that damned lip again and staring down at her shoes. They haven't been in private much since term began, but when they were, she never called him "Professor". Then again, he's never called her "Potter" until now. "I've got to tell you this because, as I'm sure you know, I'm drunk and sometimes I have to say things I'll later regret when I'm drunk."

This territory is dangerous, and Teddy knows it. He grabs Lily by her arms to get her to look him in the eyes and he's about to say, "Get back to your dormitory, Lily." Instead, she meets his gaze and he leans forward just a bit and bites that damned lip himself.

She groans against his lips, then pulls him to her as his arms fall to embrace her. She kisses him back, her tongue sliding against his lower lip, tasting as much of him as she can, and he tastes her back, relishing in the feel of her hands against his back and…

_Oh, Merlin. Oh, Christ._ He pulls away, missing the feel of her lips already. Anyone could walk around the corner at any moment. He's her professor. And she's drunk. And he's not.

And she's seventeen.

And he's twenty-eight.

"Shit, Lily."

She turns, looks at the wall, the ceiling, the floor – anywhere but him. "I just wanted to say that I love you," she chokes out, her cheeks bright red. She's the picture of innocence and demureness – though really he knows she is neither.

"I love you too," he says, because he owes her that, at least. "But I love you too much. We can't do this. I'm your professor."

She meets his gaze now, straightening her Slytherin green and silver tie. "No, you don't love me too much," she says, tears evident in her voice. "You don't love me enough."

And with that, she turns on her heel and runs down the hall and he doesn't chase after her because maybe she's right.

_5 November_

"It's just, I think it's stupid they only have a Yule Ball for the Triwizard Tournament. We should get to have fun like that more often."

"Oh, my God. You are so right."

"Well? Lily, couldn't you bring it up at the next prefect meeting?"

"I mean, I guess I could. It sounds like a good idea."

"Oh, and you know Max would be down with that. He'd probably ask to take you, even."

This is why Teddy normally doesn't assign textbook work – it leads to idle conversation. But this morning he has a raging hangover and his head is pounding too badly for him to even attempt to teach properly. Last night he took to his rooms to down an entire bottle of firewhisky – too much or not enough, he's unsure. It got him to sleep, though, which was a miracle. His thoughts were so filled with _her_.

Lily sits in the back of the classroom now, as opposed to her usual spot front and center. She laughs with a group of girls who want a Christmas dance. If Teddy didn't have a hangover – _if I didn't love Lily_, he thinks – he would walk up to those girls and demand that they get back on task. But he can't do that, no, because that would mean talking to Lily…

Lily, who apparently is going to get asked to the Yule Ball by Max.

It's like he's seventeen again, he realizes that night as he cleans up his rooms. There's a tumbler where there shouldn't be, a sticky stain of firewhisky gluing it to the table he left it on. It's like he's seventeen, and another boy just asked Victoire out, and goddammit, he is pissed.

But Lily is no Victoire. Oh, Merlin, she is not.

_10 December_

He has to chaperone.

He has to bloody chaperone.

Oh, Merlin. Oh, Christ.

_21 December_

She's drunk again, and Teddy wonders idly if her date – Max, the Head Boy – is drunk, too. But Lily is outside now, sans-Max, enjoying to magicked rose garden all by her lonesome.

He can see her, over here from his perch on the bench. He's escaped for a smoke and some fresh air to clear his head. Indoors, he could only glare jealously as Lily danced with Max and laughed with other boys. Here, he can smoke a cigarette and forget about her… Well, not anymore, since she's before him, a vision in white.

"Can I have a smoke?" she asks, sitting down next to him.

He should say no, but he doesn't. Teddy reaches for his pack, a Muggle brand, and hands Lily a cigarette. He lights it with his wand and she laughs at that trick like she's never seen it before – like he's some bloke she just met at a pub. Her laughter makes his heart do crazy things.

She exhales and holds her cigarette low in her left hand, resting the same hand on the cold stone bench. "Stuffy in there," she murmurs.

It's the first they've spoken since the kiss.

"Exactly why I'm out here."

They are silent for a moment until she says, her voice as honest as possible, "You know, I was so injured that night, when you blew me off. But I understand now, I really do."

He's flummoxed that she's brought it up, but nods. His head is spinning. Are her words affecting him so much? Or is it just the mead he shared with the professors earlier? "I meant everything I said, Lily. I love you. It's just…"

"It's impossible." She ashes her cigarette before inhaling again. "Do you think it'd be worth a try, though?" She cocks her head to the side, meeting his gaze with her soft green-brown eyes. When he doesn't respond quickly enough, she continues on. "It's just, you're nothing like Max or the other boys. You're not a boy at all, and… Well, I've loved you my whole life, really. Only now I'm brazen enough to act on it."

"I've loved you forever, too," Teddy answers, not caring how awful it all is. "And I've wanted you since that day I came to talk about the position with McGonagall and saw you with your bow and arrow." He smirks, remembering.

Lily shrugs. "I've wanted you longer."

"Wasn't aware this was a competition," Teddy says with another, deeper smirk, and then she laughs her glorious laugh and their cigarettes are forgotten, left burning on the cobblestone, and they kiss, and it's not enough and it's too much, but with the touch of her lips to his she kisses away all of his injuries and he thinks that maybe, just maybe, they can make this work.


End file.
